


rinse (and repeat)

by thir13enth



Series: seeing stars [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, actually i think i just gave up on having a structure, morning shower sex, porn with an attempted plot?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 00:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8946463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: There’s no use crying over spilled coffee, especially that of which spilled all over Shiro.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pixie_rings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pixie_rings/gifts).



> by mass approval, i bring this to fruition. y’all are going to hell. (but don’t worry i’ll be there and i will guarantee to still be writing shallura smut lmfao)
> 
> anyway general note is that this is a much requested continuation of [wake up](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8860282), so i might suggest reading that before coming this way, although i promise to do my best explaining what’s going on in this so this can be read independently.
> 
> for **[materassassino](http://materassassino.tumblr.com/)** (aka pixie_rings on ao3) — for being an enabler. i hope i don't disappoint you.

There’s no use crying over spilled milk, so goes an Earth saying — and Allura supposes that also applies for coffee.

Especially that of which spilled all over Shiro.

Said paladin looks down at himself. “Yeah, I’ll definitely have to change,” he affirms, seeing the wet stains over his clothes. He lifts his forearm to his nose and sniffs his skin. His nose wrinkles. “Probably a shower too — unless I’m planning on smelling like coffee the rest of the day.”

“At least you don’t have to change very much,” she offers, sneaking a glance at the dampened parts of his pajama pants, the slightly heavier fabric lending to a much more defined view of his thighs and well, everything else in between. “You're only wearing pants and boxers to begin with.”

He catches her staring elsewhere rather than his face and quickly tilts his head down to where her gaze is pointing to meet her eyes. There’s an all-knowing and very smug and very suggestive smile on his face.

“You know,” he says, his eyebrow raising. “The reason why I spilled the coffee in the first place was because you started tickling me.”

She shrugs dramatically, picking herself up off the floor. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she insists, extending a hand down to him.

He takes it, lifting himself off the ground. He bends forward to pick the previously spilled mug up from the floor, offering her a more than enjoyable view of his bottom.

She doesn’t resist reaching her hand forward to squeeze a good half of it. She feels his muscles contract her grip contract. He looks back at her.

“I’m sure we can clean this all up later,” she says to him in a low voice, her lips ghosting over the line of his jaw. She pulls him closer and steps forward to close the space between their bodies. “But first, I think you need a little rinse first, don’t you, you dirty boy?”

When her lips reach his earlobe, he turns his face toward her and growls, suddenly clanking the ceramic mug down onto the counter and hoisting her up by the back of her thighs. She giggles, wrapping her legs around his waist and taking hold of his face. She drops her head down and delivers a long open-mouthed kiss to him, one that he very willingly receives as he walks back toward her bedroom — every now and then bumping her up against walls at the end of hallways.

She gasps at every turn.

They struggle to slide the door to her room open — forcing their lips to separate momentarily as she finds the handle and he props her up on his thigh — but they don’t break their kiss again until he throws her down onto her own bed.

He kneels just below her, sliding his hands up and under her nightgown, gliding over her dark skin until he reaches her hipbones. She doesn’t stop him, legs bent at the knee, parting her thighs — a sultry smile on her lips, urging to go on.

He sees the silver curls just under his nose and laughs softly.

“To think that all this time you weren’t wearing any underwear,” he murmurs, circling his hands from her waist back around the swells of her thigh and parting her entrance.

She giggles, but then gasps when she feels the flat of his tongue right at her center, gasps yet again when his tongue flicks her clit. She almost regrets pulling her legs so far open and exposed because she think she knows that the rate he’s going she will absolutely lose control faster than she’s anticipated.

He trades his tongue for his lips, his lips for his tongue, every now and then teasing her skin with the edge of his teeth. He adds a silver finger in, and the chill and smoothness of its glide makes her moan. He bends his finger up, putting pressure and stroking along the roof of her cunt. His tongue returns to the hood of her entrance, following in the same rhythm. Her hips gyrate luxuriously.

When she feels the wet of his saliva and her arousal trail down and pool onto the sheets underneath her, the heat between her legs growing sensitive and about to burst, the muscles along her inner thighs quivering, she knows she’s right at the verge of falling without a chance of ever turning back.

“Shiro…” she says, sucking in her breath and looking down at him. She pushes his forehead back and away from her.

He freezes, the tip of his finger still dipped into her folds. His dark eyes flicker up at her for just a moment. He looks like he’s drunk on her sex, his eyelids lowered and his pupils so dilated she can’t tell the difference between the blacks and browns of his eyes.

“Shiro,” she begs, giving him a bashful smile, raising herself up onto her elbows. “I’m going to come too quickly if you keep this up.”

He blinks. She can’t tell if her words came through to him. “So you like this,” he concludes.

“Well, yes —“ she stammers, but she sees his head tilt back down toward her and she feels his finger slide in one joint deeper. “But I’m going to come too soon.”

“It’s never too early to come,” he purrs, the puff of his breath from his words tickling her. He kisses the inside of her right thigh and bites her skin softly, looking back up at her again. “And besides, I can always make you come _again_.”

His dark smile makes her swoon, and she breathes out through pursed lips. Her eyes roll back and her head hits back onto the sheets, and on her cue, he gets back to work — this time his tongue rougher and his finger joined by a second.

She gasps, and then gasps again, higher and higher as she feels herself pulling closer and closer to her climax. She feels everything tightening, her eyes squeezing shut, her thighs locking in place, her abdomen holding her entire self together…

And when she finally releases, he holds her bucking hips and shaking legs, keeps his lips right up against her — ready to go for a second time.

“Oh, Shiro…” she exhales, as she catches her breath and moans in the sizzle of the aftermath.

She looks down at him, still poised just above her clit, and then reaches for his white bangs to pull his head back up toward her. She kisses him graciously, complimenting his absolutely stellar performance between breaths. He laughs in response to her words, shying away from her ticklish kisses at the crook of his neck.

“You want to come again?” he asks softly after a little pillow talk, kissing her cheek. His thumb is already circling her nipple.

Allura shakes her head. “I think it’s about time for you to clean up,” she reminds him, her fingers drumming his still-coffee-sticky chest.

“Shower?” he offers, even though he knows that this is going to happen regardless.

She smiles. “I’ll make sure that not a single inch of you is missed,” she purrs.

.

.

They waste no time.

He reaches in to turn the faucet around and start the stream, and she pulls the damned flannel pajama pants off him — finally — so quickly that his boxers come off right with it. His clothing falls to his feet, and she pushes him back against the wall, stepping in front of him and kissing him deeply.

Her hands follow the contours of his body down to his navel, following the thickening hairs below his waistline until she reaches his cock, wrapping her fingers around it. She strokes.

“Fuck…” he breathes into her mouth.

Her movements quicken and she hears the rhythm of his breathing follow in suit. She feels his hands bundle the hem of her nightgown up and as the clothing lifts up and off her body, she raises her arms above her shoulders and he throws the last of the fabric aside.

She comes forward to him again, pressing her skin against his — fully now — relishing the entire warmth of his body on hers, her hands cradling his head and pressing her lips harder into his. His hands take hold of her breasts, giving them a small squeeze before they travel the entire unadulterated length of her body and rest at the supple curves of her ass. He pulls her forward and backward, grinding her against him as he moves his hips in the same sway.

She breaks the kiss, looks down at him a lust-filled gaze and a slow pulsating pink glow of the wings under her eyes, leans in and whispers in his ear —

“Fuck me, Shiro.”

And at this, he growls soundly, lifting her entire body up and throwing her into the shower. She makes a noise that sounds like something between a yelp and a giggle as she keeps her balance on the slippery tile and as he steps into the steam with her. He purrs at the sight of the hot water streaming down her breasts, the hardened tips. He quickly chooses the left side, coming forward again to roll the nipple with his tongue before he follows the rivulets of water up her body into the hollow of her neck. He bites hard.

Her eyes flutter shut and she gives out a long and elapsed groan. Her body arches into him, pressing hard and forcefully, urging and persistent.

His teeth release from her skin, soft lips kissing the newly made mark — and her eyes open, her teeth bite down on her bottom lip. She drapes her hands around his neck, kisses him, and then gracefully lifts herself up, wraps her legs around his waist.

He falls forward, letting her back hit the shower wall. He props her up and she reaches one hand down to angle his cock at her entrance — then gives out a long and breathy moan as he follows, pushing his entire length in.

“—fuck, Allura,” he says on a shaky exhale.

She whines softly, then kisses his cheek, adjusts her legs to hold herself stable against him. She holds her lips next to his ear.

“Make me scream,” she tells him in a low voice. “Make me scream so loud that everyone else in this damn ship wakes up.”

He kisses her jaw, chuckling. “What — so they can see the mess we’ve made in the kitchen?”

She sighs loudly. “We’ll have to finish cleaning that up.”

He gives her a dark smile. He tenses his arms.

“Let’s finish _you_ first,” he growls.

And then he goes.

He holds her still against the slippery shower wall. She holds onto the soap ledge and the towel rack just beyond the shower glass, her ankles hooked around his body, letting the rest of her body slack. She takes him full and completely with every return, gravity helping their every sway and every slide.

“Shiro— oh, _Shiro_ —“ she gasps, with every entrance until her voice drowns out into high-pitched moans. “ _Don’t stop_. Don’t you fucking _stop_.”

He’s not planning to. He quickens instead because hearing her beg for him and feeling her squirm and her nails digging into his back and seeing her hair sticking to her skin and her eyes shut tight — god, it just makes him thrust harder, slam deeper, hold tighter, _fuck her so she can’t walk the next day_.

“Fuck!” he grunts suddenly, out loud. His hips slap the insides of her thighs. His skin feels raw and hot and numb and sore at the same time, but all he really knows is that she is about to come.

She’s clutching onto his shoulders and she’s biting into the base of his neck and all he hears are her muffled moans and the roar of the shower stream and his insides are melted and tingling and he doesn’t know if he can hold himself back anymore but fuck, he _has_ to because she is so close and she is so beautiful when she comes and he can push himself to last one more push, one more stroke, one more thrust —

and once he hears her cry his name in a long shuddering gasp, once he feels her hands loosen around his arms, once he sees her back arch away from the shower wall, her skin kissing his, he releases himself in two final long thrusts.

“Mmmm, Shiro,” she moans softly in aftermath, peppering his face with gracious kisses.

He slowly recovers his breath, gently placing her legs back down. Her feet fall flat to the shower tiles aside his. Her hands encircle his waist and pulls his body against hers. Her kisses move down to his chest and his collarbones.

When his heart settles, he takes a deep inhale and exhales with satisfaction, gazing down at her. His fingers play in the tangles of her silver hair. He presses his lips to her forehead.

“Good morning, love,” he says, tongue-in-cheek and with a wry smile. “I have coffee ready for you in the kitchen.”

“I’m quite awake, thank you very much,” she snorts, pushing him into the shower stream.

**Author's Note:**

> can you believe this took me three days to write? 
> 
> (and yes, this implies that i was staring at written smut for a large part of those three days)


End file.
